


Keep You From Breaking

by ruthlesslistener



Category: 2P Hetalia - Fandom
Genre: 2p Holytalia, M/M, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2016-06-30
Packaged: 2018-07-19 05:04:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7346236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruthlesslistener/pseuds/ruthlesslistener
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He knew he couldn't stop the conflicts between Veniziano and Austria from happening. <br/>This doesn't mean he couldn't stop the pain from getting worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keep You From Breaking

It was happening again.

Screams echoed off dark granite walls, the rising crescendo of sound howling through the hallways like the cries of the damned. Angry voices chattered in Hungarian and German between sounds of rage and pure animal terror, the sound of leather cracking against skin interlacing the calls of defiance with pained, broken sobs.

The little German empire perched in the hallway leaned his head against the cold stone and winced, wrapping his white cloak tightly around him. He tucked himself closer into his hiding space behind a large decorative vase, violet eyes flickering fearfully behind tightly closed lids, and waited.

A door opened and slammed, the swell of voices growing louder, than dimming as the people inside the room cleared out. Holy Rome shifted, listened, then stilled as he felt the burning aura of two power-sated countries approach him. 

Austria and Hungary's voices never rose above a quiet murmur as they walked; yet Holy Rome heard them clearly, the dark, sullen purr of Eliza and the grating rasp of Roland all too familiar to him. They spoke in quiet hues of accented Austrian German, the regional dialect of the captital an unfamiliar, but not undecipherable language for the young German nation.

"...the little monster bit me. Actually fucking bit me. Do you see this? What did I tell you about him? He's a fucking menace. Rome was crafty, training him to fight like that, but I won't stand for it." Roland's voice was dark and rough, sharp with anger and indignation. Holy Rome wormed himself farther into his hiding spot, his stomach spinning into a sickening lurch as 2p Austria casually slid a hand down the length of his whip, streaking the floor with dislodged blood.

"I told you he was a bad idea." 2p Hungary let out a short huff of irritation, clacking footsteps tracing a dainty circle around the flecks of gore sparkling against the dark stone. "You should have taken South Italy when you had the chance. There was less economic prosperity there, sure, but he was practically an angel compared to this goddamned demon."

Austria's reply was lost in the echoes of their footsteps, the duo having walked too far away for Holy Rome to hear properly. He caught something about "Remus" and "revenge" and sighed, resignation and dread settling in at the thought at what would happen next.

With the two powerful nations gone, he was safe to wander alone; at least, until Roland sent a servent or two to clean up the mess. Casting a wary glance around, he cautiously crept from his hiding place and stood, shaking an errant spider or two from his mess of soft golden curls. 

The room where he had heard the fight take place hadn't been far; nevertheless, he walked slowly, making sure to check every nook and cranny for signs of blood and scuffs. He was practiced in his movements, careful in his strides; pearly white teeth (the blessings of being a constantly-healing nation) worried away at his bottom lip as he scanned. Regardless of the injuries they sustained, the person he was looking for was prone to hiding, and once they hid, it was nigh impossible for him to find them.

The telltale dark marks of shoes scuffed against the polished shine of the granite tiles trailed their way up to a broom closet, and he sighed, one hand absentmindedly patting the bundle of bandages tucked inside his shirt pocket. Bracing himself for the knives, fists and insults that were sure to come, he heaved open the door and then lept back, protecting his eyes from the flurry of hate he was positive he was about to recieve.

No pain came, no sharp hiss of anger graced his ears.

Holy Rome let out a long sigh and dropped his arms, wincing as he saw the broken form that lay at his feet. The tattered, bloody body of Venician Northern Italy shivered amongst the buckets and brooms of the broom closet, nine new whip marks carving bleeding stripes against the bruised, bony expanse of their back.

The rising empire swallowed back the bile that rose in his throat at the sight and knelt, cautiously nudging at the expanse of unbroken skin next to the young nation's shoulder. Veniziano whipped around, teeth chattering at the pain in their back, and glared at him through eyes nearly swollen shut.

Despite the graveness of the situation, Holy Rome had to smile. "Hello, buttface!" he snickered, mood lifting as the fury in the province's mesmerizing magenta eyes increased. "What'd you mess up now? Tried to fight the neighborbood cat again?"

Veniziano slid themselves away from him and scowled, weak arm muscles only managing to move them a few centimeteres back. 

"It's none of your buisness," they hissed, the roughness of their voice sending a pang through Holy Rome's heart. "Fuck off! I don't need your damn help!"

The German huffed and scanned the whip marks with a practiced eye, giving them a noticably skeptical look. "Last time I checked, a person couldn't see behind their back, dickhead." A short silence, and then, heart pounding, he grumbled "At least let me bandage the wounds for you."

Veniziano let out an irate snarl and twisted around, presenting their back to him completely. Their eyes closed, nose wrinkling in annoyance as they pointedly ignored him, and damn, if that didn't do funny things to the little empire's stomach. 

He smiled, softer this time, and took out the bandages and healing ointment he'd been saving up. The damage would take quite a while to heal-he could tell by the quaking of the smaller nation in his arms as he fixed them that the pain went farther than skin-deep- but that was okay. As long as he was here, clumsy fingers and snide comments and all, he knew he could keep Veneziano's heart from darkening further.

As long as he was here, he knew that he could fix them.

End.

...

(Written in an attempt to break out of writer's block at two in the morning. I apologize for any mistakes I might have missed before posting this.)


End file.
